


Wrong

by abstractsta



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol as a Coping Mechanism, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-14 22:21:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11792664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abstractsta/pseuds/abstractsta
Summary: As natural and easy as things had been, Dean had never actually stopped to think that his angel was a man - A very short story.





	Wrong

When Sam and Cas had decided the old dusty tomes of the local library possibly bore more information than the handy internet Dean had been tasked with, Dean had felt a bit sour.

It wasn't that he didn't want to do his share on the hunt, but, after a short search, pinpointed to the moment when Cas had kissed him, right there on the street, for Sam, God and everyone to see.

It'd actually been a few months into the part of their lives where it could be called a 'relationship' with Cas when Dean had the wherewithal to panic.

For weeks and weeks he'd been kissing Cas, had feelings that made him blush since from whenever, he can't even remember.

Sure, he'd _known_ he swung both ways since he was fourteen, but he'd been a fucking _pro_ at hiding it from John.

His Dad's rants of faggots had been enough of a deterrent to stop him from ever breaching the subject, and since it was town to town anyway, who cared who he decided to fuck once they were stationary. It wasn't like he was going to bring anyone home for dinner anyway.

Something bugged him enough to detour to a liquor store and blindly grab whatever was cheap and floor it to the motel. He needed to get away. To be alone and chase down this nagging feeling.

Now, half a bottle later, it gnawed at him. How John had died for him, actually given his soul so that Dean could live, albeit him being freed from Hell, and Dean couldn't even do _this_ right.

Seeking answers from the bottom of a bottle, Dean took a long swallow of the rot-gut and leaned back against the wall on the bed he was sitting on. The self-same bed he was sharing with Cas.

Guilt was something he'd been on first name basis since he was ten, so it wasn't anything new how the blanket fell over his shoulders, making him hunch over, defeated. His Dad would've disowned him for this.

It was _wrong_ to enjoy something so depraved, to love the feel of Cas deep inside him when they fucked, to turn into jelly in the hands of the angel. To feel his lips tingle for long minutes after they kiss had ended.

Dean stared at the amber liquid for answers, none of which were coming forth. He took another deep draught and hit his head against the wall.

To feel something. To clear his head. To feel _something_. To feel anything but this confusion.

Anything other than the warming glow of how his thoughts turned to Castiel. About how Cas's long fingers calmed him when they grasped his shoulder, how those fingers massaged his scalp when he felt a headache coming. Those slender fingers coaxing him towards his orgasm when they had their time alone. How Dean was helpless in the hold of those sure, safe hands.

Helpless in the best of ways.

 

Dean's lips slanted into a smile, his eyes shining with emotion at the bottle. He loved Cas, the stubborn bastard. With all his heart. Had for a long time.

Things that spelled good times flashed before his minds eye, things that were hidden away for the most of the time;things that reminded Dean of how he could be _himself_.

Cas's laugh, and how sometimes Dean still surprised himself with laughing along. Just because.

Cas's eyes, soft, so soft, right before Dean went cross-eyed following them while their lips met.

 _Castiel_ , the soldier of Heaven, willing to let it all to go to shit for _him_.

Cas, who gasped broaken groans when he came, thrusting deep inside of Dean like he could replace his claim on him within.

Dean wishing he did. He missed the handprint. Right now he missed Cas something fierce. Stupid research keeping him away.

His blurry gaze came into focus with some difficuly. Something had raised him from his revelry, and he squinted at the whisky. Surely he wasn't drunk enough for this shit.

”Hello, Dean.” Dean lift his head to see the angel at the inside of the door to the room. ”I felt your longing.” Cas looked away as if finding his words. ”I wasn't sure if I should answer.”

The smile on Dean's face grew, his empty had reaching for Cas without a thought, natural, and Cas took a careful step closer.

”I felt your distress,” Cas squinted at Dean, closing the distance further. Dean set the bottle on the nighttable and swung around to stand up, the sight of Cas making his heart beat doubletime. Suddenly he felt warm all over. 

A wisp of a memory brushed past his mind, calling people names he didn't want to repeat. Hurtful names, something that carved deeper than a knife. Then Cas took another step closer, and the voice was gone. In its place was certainty.

 

That certainty took hold of Dean, the empty ache of Cas not already being in his arms echoing hollow when he strode the separating space and wrapped Cas in an embrace.

Dean hated the hesitancy with which Cas lifted his arms, something that had become a surety, but he refused to let go. Instead, he sought Cas's lips and kissed him hard, reaffirming, and sighed a small breath of relief when Cas kissed him back without question.

And just like that Dean felt light again. The tingle coursing through his body began from his fingertips, the one that never failed to appear once he got his hands on Cas. It pushed away the last vestiges of his guilt, replacing it with an almost giddy sensation of belonging.

Quietly, admittedly slightly swimming in whiskey, Dean swore to never doubt this again. How Cas was there for him, how he withheld his brimming questions to respond eagerly, taking this moment to be theirs, pouring his own love into Dean. It was immeasurable.

”Don't go,” was all Dean could speak out loud. _I'll never doubt us again,_ his heart said.

”I wouldn't,” Cas answered, tightening his arms around Dean.

Together, they _fit_.

 

Never again would Dean give his past the power to come between them.

The ghost of John could go fuck an aardvark.

 

 


End file.
